The Deity and His Jewel
by gideondorf
Summary: Thorin is the prince under the mountain, second only to his father. Bilbo is one of the last surviving hobbits, struggling to keep his group of thieves alive. By stealing the Arkenstone, he has pulled him and his group into an even bigger hole. AU dark!Thorin/Bilbo
1. Chapter 1

Stepping outside of the mountain was always a strange sensation, and for a moment Thorin felt disconnected from himself. Above him was a grey sky, and the air smelled of incoming rain.

"Thorin," Dwalin said, "what is wrong?"

Thorin composed himself, putting his hand to the sword strapped to his side. "Nothing," he said. "Now, are we going to find the thief or not? Father could have my head for this."

"Of course." Dwalin looked around, clutching his axes tighter. "Where will we be starting? Whoever stole it could be anywhere."

"If they are smart then they ran. But then again, it has not been long since the Arkenstone was stolen. How far could they have gotten on foot?" Those words were his only comfort. There was no way to deny that this thief was no ordinary one. Not just anyone could steal the Arkenstone, especially not from his father's own treasury. He had inherited it from his father when he died, and from there Thorin would inherit once his father's reign ended. "That is if they have even had the chance to leave the mountain."

The fact was that the thief could have been anywhere and anyone. Whoever had done it had made it past the most guarded part of Erebor without being seen or heard, all the while being able to hide such a large jewel. No one would have noticed a few gold coins vanishing, though if they were caught the king still would have taken their head. To steal the Arkenstone was beyond foolish, and certainly something that would have been noticed.

The timing, Thorin noted, had been perfect as well. Whoever had done it must have known when it would be removed from the throne to be cleaned. An honored treasure such as that was treated as though it were worth more than ten piles of gold. If it lost even the faintest hint of its gleam then his father would surely have gotten angry. He seemed to truly believe that it was a sign of his right to rule.

Well, his father could believe what he liked. Thorin just wished that he did not have to be the one to retrieve it. With his luck, the person who stole it would probably be the dwarf hired to clean it. It was a great honor to enter the king's treasury, even if it was just to clean a rock.

"We should inspect the area, question a few dwarves," Thorin said. "After this, we will meet with Dis and Frerin and see if they have discovered anything."

* * *

"Think of all the food that we can buy with this," Pippin said, looking over the stone. "We can finally have second breakfast again!"

Bilbo wrapped the cloth around the Arkenstone once more. The boys' eyes were bright, remembering a time so long ago. He had hardly been older than a baby when he had been able to eat more than two or three scavenged meals a day. How could he even remember that time?

"Uncle," Frodo said, "what can we do with it?" He wrapped his cloak around him tighter. His breath was white in the air, and even from the distance between them Bilbo could see goosebumps all over him.

"A new life," he said. "We can try and buy a new life."

Lobelia chuckled. "That is what you always say. Usually all it gets us is a few coins. Did anyone ever tell you that you could not barter worth a damn?"

"What are you saying? Do you think that you could steal this?"

Her smirk turned into a deep frown. "I have helped you through many of your missions. Tell me, would we have made it out of Rohan with that crown were it not for me? Or how about when you decided to take advantage of Elrond's generosity? Remember when you thought that his salt shakers would actually be worth something? If he saw us now then he surely would not treat you as Belladonna Took's son."

Bilbo tensed. "What in Yavanna's name are you saying?"

"Stop thinking of the past and do do not dare dream of the future. All we have is now, Bilbo. Now, we are just a small band of thieves, and that is all that we will ever be. There is no Shire any more, and we will never be able to make another. This is all that we are." She sighed. "Bilbo, what you need to do is to have someone help you sell the stone. If it truly is as important as you claim it is then we can surely sell it for a fortune."

"And with that money we may start a new life!"

"You need to get over that!" She balled her fists. "Bilbo, once we sell that stone we need to run. In fact, we should be running right now. If you really stole the most famous of all of Erebor's treasures then you have gotten all of us a spot on the execution block. If we want to live then we run. We are hardly outside of Dale. The dwarves could find us at any time!"

Bilbo held the stone closer. He could see just the smallest bit of it under the cloth. Truly, it shone with a great, unnatural light. Whatever it was, it surely was no ordinary gem. "If you want to run, then we may. Perhaps this would fetch a better price further east. What about going to the Iron Hills? Surely some dwarves there would pay a high price for this treasure."

"Have you not heard? Erebor and the Iron Hills are allies, and I believe the kings of both dwarf kingdoms are related."

Bilbo scowled.

"You are not the only smart one, Bilbo." Lobelia sighed. "Just give up on this idea that we can change. There is no respectability now, no Baggins, no Tooks. All that there is now is a group of hungry hobbits."

"And what do you say that we do once this is sold?"

"We take the money and use it to keep us traveling. We go from place to place, stealing as we please and gaining our wealth, then leaving when we must. In the places we visit, we may live the best life that we can with the money we have taken before leaving once more. All we have to do is keep pushing forward."

"That is what we are doing now!"

Lobelia scoffed. "If we lived like that now then these hobbits would not be hungry. No, we would be drinking wine and sleeping in real beds." She sighed, then pulled something from her bag. "While Bilbo was stealing from the dwarves, I snuck through the markets of Dale." She threw everyone a loaf of bread, even one to Bilbo. "I would save a bit if I were any of you."

For a moment, Bilbo could only stare at his food in shock. But then again, what was he expecting? She would not let him starve just because they had a fight. If so, then he would have been dead years before.

The young hobbits dug into their food, eating quickly, as if their food would be taken from them.

They truly did not deserve this life.

"Lobelia, we will discuss your plan together tomorrow in private. Until then, both of us need to plan. I want to hear your ideas."


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast, the first and only (if they were even lucky enough to get it), that day was some stolen bird eggs that Merry and Pippin had grabbed, along with any leftover bread from the night before. Rosie had eaten all of hers on the previous night, and the little bit of egg that she got was surely not enough to hold her over. It was pity that made Bilbo hand over some of his. With what had happened, his stomach had been twisting too much for him to even focus on eating.

The girl stared at him for a moment, unsure of whether to take the chunk of bread or not. Crumbs fell from it, and her eyes followed them to the ground. They mingled with the dirt.

"Go on," Bilbo said, forcing a smile. "I am not hungry anyway." It was not as though he had not done missions starving before. If he was lucky then he could force himself to think of what needed to get done, and that alone would be enough to stop his rumbling belly.

She, like the rest of the hobbits, was too thin. It was not just what they (had once regularly) ate that made them larger than other races (though not in height). There were many days when Bilbo could not even look at the children. They looked more like a pile of skin and bones hastily glued together than hobbits. Were it not for their hairy feet and slightly pointed ears then surely they could pass for some of the hungry children of men. Perhaps then a few crusts of bread would have been spared to them over the years while traveling.

"Please," he said. His lips ached; smiling was too hard in those days. "You need to eat something. It is good for you."

With a slightly shaking hand, the girl took it from him. Her eyes widened when she put it in her mouth.

"Is it good?"

She nodded. "Yes, thank you, Mister Bilbo."

"Of course." He looked around the small camp. Sam was busy trying to reignite the small fire with sticks. Other than his thin clothes and even thinner blankets thrown over him, he did not have anything to keep him warm. Walking over, he placed a hand on his shoulder.

The boy looked at him, his entire body twitching. "Mister Bilbo, do you have a match?"

He slapped on another smile, then dug around in one of his many pockets. There had to be one in there; if not, a good old fashioned tinder box would do just fine. It seemed that everything ended up in Bilbo's pockets somehow. Sometimes, when he went through to clean it, even he would be surprised with what he found inside. There were definitely necessities that he kept in there, what would certainly be needed for some sort of situation. Over the years, he had mentally noted everything that they might ever have use of.

Luckily, he had a few matches.

"Just promise to keep this fire small, alright? Lobelia and I will likely be busy this morning."

Sam nodded. "Yes, sir."

Hamfast and Bell really had put some manners into him before the world did its toll on them. They had never been very good thieves, but they had prepared their son to be their way out of some situations. Anything they stole only was because their polite boy could help them get away with it.

"Make sure that you all stay together, alright? If any of you get hungry then share some bread. And no matter what, do not go anywhere. For all we know, this area could be dangerous." He doubted it, but the promise of wolves always kept the children close.

"Mister Bilbo, what if someone comes and finds us?"

Bilbo bit his lip. With the way they were dressed, they certainly did not look just like children who went out to explore. They could claim that they were lost, but someone might try and take them, even if only to find their "parents".

"Just do your best," he said. "If they appear threatening, then attack. Use those swords that we stole from the trolls a while back."

"Those ones that tried to eat us?" Oh, Lobelia had nearly killed him after he got them out of that. Even if they had gotten lucky and escaped, Bilbo still nearly got them turned into troll dinner.

"Yes, those trolls. They were the ones who had all of that treasure." Finding that had been pure luck. They would have taken it all, were it not for the sound of wargs in the distance. By the time that day had ended, they had been too busy hiding from passing orcs to bother trying to go back. "Those are the ones that I got trusty Sting from."

"Even Pippin can use one?"

"Yes." He had been given only a slingshot, more out of fear that he would cut off an arm, his own. He was a good shot, but most of his hits depended on luck.

"Now stop worrying, Sam. That is my job."

* * *

"I cannot believe that you actually got lost." Dis sighed.

Thorin scowled. "We at least found out some information." Rumors, yes, but that was better than nothing. "What did you and Frerin find out?"

"We mostly checked the inside of the mountain." Frerin did not even look up from his bow, which he was busy cleaning. "We did manage to catch a few criminals, but not that Arkenstone fellow. They were just the regular underground lot, the kind that wants to get themselves some gold without having to work for it."

Dis snorted. "You know that they will lose a few body parts. Maybe it will just take a few fingers for them to reveal that they know some information. Or should it be that they immediately lose something important, a leg perhaps? Those bastards will be yapping in seconds."

Dwalin remained silent.

"So what did you hear anyway?" Frerin asked. "It had to be good if father yelled at you for it. How long did he do it? I think that he went on for a good twenty minutes straight before finally pausing to take a breath. You would think that he had the wrath of Aule burning in him. You know what? I think that he does."

Dis frowned. "I would not go so far as to say that, but you got a good chewing for that. What did you learn? If he is depending on anyone, it is you."

He wanted to curse them for not being the first born, the one with the most expectations. "Dwalin and I heard rumors of some silent bandits. They are going through the markets of Dale, making off with loaves of bread without anyone seeing them-"

Frerin burst out laughing. "Well, sister, at least we know that Thorin is good at heart. He cannot even realize how crime works! Of course the thieves would be silent. Do you think that they want to get themselves caught? I can understand you questioning the people of Dale, but why would you think that the starving beggars who are lucky enough to steal some bread are the same thieves that stole the Arkenstone? Do you even think that those compare?"

"It was what I heard!"

"Honesty is not helping you in this case, brother." Frerin went back to his bow. "The fact is that father is angry, very angry. If the Arkenstone is not found then none of us know what could happen. All we know for sure is that it probably will not be good."

"That is just it! Who could make off with the Arkenstone?"

Frerin raised an eyebrow. "That is a question that even Dis and I cannot answer. I can certainly understand why someone would want it. Have you ever looked at it?"

Thorin balled his fists. "I have seen it damn near every day of my life and you know that!"

"Have you ever really looked at it? Even for something found in Erebor, that is huge. Nothing like it has ever been seen before. If there are more like them, then they have not been found. It is more than just another pretty trinket mined out of Erebor."

Dis nodded. "That stone is the very pride of Durin."

* * *

Lobelia climbed the tree with a nimble grace, sitting herself next to him on the branch. This was one of the highest trees around; if either of them slipped, then their fates were sealed.

"Do you want to hear my plan again?"

"No." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I know exactly what you want, and I understand why. What I want to offer you is a deal."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what would that offer be?"

"We are going to do as you suggested."

Her eyes brightened. "Truly?"

"I have no reason to lie to you about this." He could see a bit of smoke in the distance, the only thing that he could see of their camp. "We will travel, the stone with us, to the Iron Hills, and then to wherever our feet next lead us. We will live highly in that kingdom until it is apparent that we must leave."

"Yes, but how will we get the money to live highly?"

"We will sell the stone," Bilbo said, "but only after we have left. Settlements of men will probably pay large prices for it, and they will likely have no idea what the meaning behind it is."

"Then what will we use in the Iron Hills?"

"Gold," he said. "What do dwarves love more than gold?"

"You stole some gold yesterday?"

"No, but if you agree to this then we will today. The mountain is overflowing with it. Do you really think that they will notice that a little bit is missing?""

She bit her lip. "And you remember what you did from yesterday?"

"Certainly," he said. "I can do it all over again."

"I do not want to trust you, but I must." She spat into her hand, then held it out to him. "This seems like a very awful idea."

"And I am sure that it does." Bilbo spit into his own hand, rough and covered in calluses from years of work. "But, when we succeed, we will both get exactly what we want."


	3. Chapter 3

The entire kingdom seemed to be holding its breath. Thorin had hoped for the impossible, that word of the stone's disappearance had not been heard by others. If the Erebor underground knew then they might believe that they could cause more crime (if they were not the ones to steal the stone themselves). The crown jewel of the king would be lost, and everyone would know it. Some were fearful, while others seemed fired up to find who did it. Though Thorin doubted that any common folk could catch the person, or people, who stole the Arkenstone, he would not stop them (so long as they did not get in his way). The sooner that the stone was back, the better.

Dwalin had sharpened his axe, preparing for the worst. He was unusually silent, not even have the slightest comment about the way Erebor was. Thorin could understand his silence around his siblings, but around him? He was half tempted to ask him what he thought.

"You know," Thorin said, "I have some ideas of what we should do next. Do you have any suggestions of your own? Even just a hunch or a feeling in the gut?"

Dwalin grunted.

"What a wonderful suggestion," a familiar voice said.

The two turned around, their eyes meeting a smirking Dis and Frerin. Both had their weapons out. Dis's sword, Thorin noticed, had blood on it.

"What happened?" Dwalin's eyes widened, and he gripped his axe tighter.

"We ran into a few more criminals," she said. "None of them knew about what happened. We thought that they were denying it, and we got into a fight over it. Once we got them knocked out and headed straight to do their time, we finally decided that they did not know."

"To put it bluntly," Frerin said, "we have about as much of a clue on what happened as you do, Thorin. We do not know anything. Unless of course that has happened to change."

"What are you two even doing here?" Thorin sighed. Did they want to mock him? Was their father's anger not enough?

"We were thinking up ideas of our own," Dis said. "We walked by when we heard Dwalin's wonderful suggestion."

Dwalin turned red.

"That is why," Dis said, "we want to help you. The truth was, Frerin and I have not been getting much done since we got into that fight. There are hundreds of possibilities, and yet everything seems to run cold. You might just need a miracle to solve this; we all will."

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you suggesting that all four of us work together?"

"With how heavy Dwalin's footsteps are? No, the thief will hear us in no time." Frerin chuckled. "No, all of us just need to think like that ugly little thief does. There has to be a reason that the thief took the stone, and there only seem to be two obvious ones. Either it was for money or to get revenge on the line of Durin. Why? We are not sure. But those are our ideas. That means they either went off in hiding to further plot their revenge and an uprising, or they went to find somewhere to sell the stone. Now I am all for stopping rebellion while it is in its bud, but I would much rather search through some sketchy areas and stop the stone from being lost to the highest bidder."

"Do either of you want to go check out some of the parts of Erebor that we like to forget about?" Dis sighed. "We always end up doing that."

"But then what will you do? If you really believe that there is a chance that someone wants revenge on the Durin line then you must find evidence." And no matter what it was, it was dismal.

"Think like the thief."

The three silenced, all eyes turning to Dwalin.

"What did you say, Dwalin?" Frerin asked.

"I said, just like you did, 'Think like the thief'. What if a thief wanted seconds? I have faced off against more than a few greedy bastards in my life to know how they work. They love whatever they can get their sticky, dirty paws on."

* * *

Lobelia only had two knives, and Bilbo only three (Sting did not count). She also had a sword, but she always kept it behind. If she ever had to get herself out of a risky situation, then she either relied on luck or what her small knives could do for her.

Luckily, she was good at throwing them.

"That is only in case we have an emergency," Bilbo had said.

And, quite frankly, Bilbo could not see it happening. They had gotten in again without so much as raising the slightest suspicion. It would almost be exciting, were they not in such a hurry to leave. For a prided treasury, it was easy to get inside.

Or maybe that was just from his point of view. Not everyone could walk without making a single sound.

Lobelia's eyes must have been as wide as saucers. She had doubted his words on what Erebor looked like inside, believing a place to be impossible. When he had spoken of the treasury, she had downright denied it. The city had given her enough of a shock, but this...

Well, Bilbo had been surprised as well.

She leaned down, most of her body blocked by the shadows. She picked up a few coins and held them in her hands. Yes, they were real. Bilbo could not help but smirk when she began to put the coins into small sacks. From there, she stuffed the sacks into a larger bag. They would not even have to put much effort into this. Reaching down, grabbing a handful of coins, then putting them in sacks was not hard. Getting the Arkenstone had required timing.

This? Bilbo was quite sure that if the two were quiet enough that they could have stolen from the king's own hoard while he sat inside.

But it was empty, save for the two. They could go in and get out without anyone knowing; if anyone actually sat and counted the gold then surely they would find out that some coins were missing.

Once it was too late, of course.

Now, he really was seeing things Lobelia's way. She had always been entranced by this. Not for what they looked like of course, but what they promised. While some saw the most marvelous of gems and gleaming gold, Bilbo could see visions of warm bed and fine food in front of him. This gold truly was their future.

The gold was slightly heavy, but nothing that he could not carry. How much food could just one piece of gold buy? Surely enough to give them at least two good meals.

* * *

Thorin wanted to think that he was hallucinating. A truce of sorts had been formed, all in hope of finding the thieves. No one had wanted to explore the mountain more than needed. Dwalin's suggestion had been reasonable. Why would the thieves not go back? All four had gone in hopes of finding at least some clues.

And, despite everything, all of his hopes, he had not actually expected to find the (possible) thieves. But there they were, holding bags that looked to be near bulging. There was little light where they stood, most of their features hidden by the shadows of the stone pillars. Still, there was just no way to deny that they were there.

Dis and Frerin did not hesitate like he did. They took off after the figures, their weapons raised. Already, Frerin was aiming his bow.

The two thieves split, running in opposite directions. Thorin's siblings followed the closest thief, a dark hooded figure. Thorin started sprinting, Dwalin behind him, towards where the other figure was headed.

* * *

Someone in the room screamed. Bilbo's head was not completely clear at the moment, but from what he could tell that had not been Lobelia's voice.

Good, she had managed to hit someone.

All Bilbo knew was that he needed to get out. There was no way to save Lobelia now, not with their plans. Years before, when they had first teamed up, they had agreed to always separate if they were caught. That was just how they worked.

And he knew that she could take care of herself. Besides, he had his own issues to worry about at the moment. Reaching for his knife, he stopped for one moment and aimed his knife.

He missed, but that was no matter. As always, whenever that happened, he turned around and ran again. Maybe he would try and throw another knife again later. If he ran out of them here then he would either run or pull out Sting.

All he would have to do was steal another set of knives later.


	4. Chapter 4

He was a good enough distance away from them to not get caught, but still close enough to throw his knife. While he was carrying the gold, he had the advantage of not being held down by heavy dwarven style armor. Bilbo pulled his next knife out; this was just going to have to make up for the last one that he had lost. They were going to pay for that.

With one swift motion, he threw it forward. This time, much to Bilbo's satisfaction, it hit its target. The large, axe wielding dwarf dropped to his knees and began to claw at the knife at his face. Bilbo was quite sure that his scream could have been heard all across Erebor.

Yes, he thought. I do hope that hurts.

The other dwarf let out a roar of anger; whether it was just a roar or something spoken in the dwarf language, Bilbo did not know. He pushed himself forward. There was a small collection of rocks around there that served as a ladder. If he could just get above the dwarf then surely he could escape him. It would be a struggle, trying to get up there while balancing all the gold, but he had been through worse.

Bilbo's eyes wondered the room, searching for any sign of it.

His heart skipped one beat, then two.

He had passed it while throwing the knife. Frantically, he picked up his pace. This was just a small misstep; he could still get away. Getting his last knife, he aimed it at the dark haired dwarf. Bilbo's heartbeat rang through his ears as he aimed it, then threw it. He turned back around, then began to run again.

Whether the knife actually hit or not, Bilbo did not know. In the next second, he was down on the ground, his face pushed against hard stone. Pain shot through every part of him.

Then there was no pain, no anything.

Lobelia aimed her knife, then threw it at the blond dwarf. The dwarf appeared to be older than the other one.

She did not see it hit, but she did hear the scream. Lobelia grinned; it served the bastard right.

* * *

"Miss Lobelia," Frodo said, grabbing her leg. The small boy looked up to her, blue eyes wide. "Where is Uncle Bilbo?"

"He probably went out to get us a little extra food for dinner. That was nice of him, was it not?" She forced a smile. He had always been so much better with interacting with the children than herself. "There is no need to worry about him. If anyone can take care of himself, then it is your uncle."

Frodo nodded. "Miss Lobelia-"

"Really, you can just call me Lobelia." She just hoped that he did not start calling her aunt. "I am not picky about formalities."

He nodded again. "Lobelia, may I please help you out sometime?"

She smirked. "Oh, I see. Your Uncle Bilbo will not take you along, so you have decided to come to me, eh? I do not think that your uncle would be too happy with me if he found out about me doing that, lad. I am sorry, but I am going to have to side with him on this."

"What? But why?" He frowned.

"There is no need to look so down." She rubbed his head; he was looking more and more like his father every day, though he still had the hair of his mother. It had been a shame when Primula and Drogo had been killed on a mission years earlier. "I actually have a few things to review tonight with you and the children."

"Really?"

"Really." She pointed to the food in his hands. "Finish your dinner and go round up the others. Do you understand?"

"What will we be doing?" He took another bite of his food, some bread that Lobelia had scrounged up well waiting for Bilbo to return.

"We are going to be reviewing a few bits of vital information. Nothing too hard, just the places to strike someone with your sword and how to properly throw a knife. We just need to make sure that no one accidentally gets cut, alright?"

Frodo nodded.

"And make sure to repeat that a few times to Merry and Pippin until you are sure that they have listened."

Frodo stuffed the rest of his food in his mouth and nodded. Then, he ran off.

Lobelia sat down with a heavy sigh. The night air was heavy, and she could hardly breathe. There was an ache inside of her, a fear that she had tried to suppress. Where was Bilbo? It had been hours since they had made the heist. She had made it off with her pickings, but what about him? If anyone was a master burglar, then it was him. Certainly he would have been back by now had he escaped.

What if he is dead?

The question hung heavy in her mind; back when it had been more than just the two of them, back when their was still a few good number of hobbits around, she had been sure that the role of leader would pass to another. But then the Tooks began to die off, the Brandybucks got too cocky, and the few Baggins perished in the wilderness or finally lost their lives to hunger. Loeblia had been the only Bracegirdle around. Slowly, whatever was left of the hobbits was ripped apart.

She was broken from her thoughts by some loud screeching and a few of the children yelling that they needed to hurry up and finish their food. Within a few minutes, all the hobbit children had gathered around her.

"Lobelia," Pippin said, "what are you going to show us?"

"Frodo already told you!" Merry said.

Lobelia sighed, then stood up. She wiped the leaves and grass off of her cloak; if she wanted to lead them, then she had to look like she knew what she was doing.

"I was just thinking," she said, "that we need a little review. I trust all of you, but it is always good to check up and make sure that we understand something." She pulled her knife out and held it up. "Now, would anyone like to show me how to properly hold this?"

Rosie raised her hand.

"Alright," Lobelia said. "Hold out your hand."

In another life, in another world, she would be giving the girl a sweet or a coin.

Rosie took the knife, then held it as she had been shown before. Her hand shook slightly.

"Relax," Lobelia said. "Shaking hands will only be a burden to you. Think of your goal."

"My goal?"

"Most of the time, your goal will be to throw this at someone to get away from them. However, at the moment you just want to show that you can hold it. I have to say, that is a much easier goal. Do you agree?"

Rosie nodded. She stilled.

"Good," she said. Lobelia stepped out of her way. "Now, throw it at that tree over there."

"She gets to throw it?" Merry broke in. "I want to do it too!"

"There is no need to worry; you will do it too. Tonight, everyone will." She placed a hand on Rosie's shoulder. "Think about your goal, but be sure to remember that you usually do not get this much time on a mission, alright?"

Rosie nodded, then threw her knife. There was still room for improvement, but she did throw it well. Lobelia walked over and pulled the knife from the tree.

"That was very good," Lobelia said. She turned back to the other children. "Rosie, you will have another chance to do this later. Now, who wants to do it next?"

The other children raised their hands, some shouting that they wanted to go first.

"Quiet down," she said.

They all quieted, their eyes on the knife.

"Frodo," she said, "you get to go next."

A few of the hobbits began to complain.

"Shush," she said. "You will all get your turn."

* * *

Thorin looked down at the body below him. This creature, whatever he was, had managed to hurt Dwalin with only a small knife. This creature had probably stolen the Arkenstone. He was so tiny, certainly tinier than most dwarves. On his head was a thick mess of chestnut brown curls, and there was a matching mess of hair on his otherwise bare feet. Surely a thief would steal shoes.

The clues clicked together; this thief was a halfling. He would have expected something better from Yavanna's children. But why were they even there?

There was no time to think of it at the moment.

Thorin picked up the body, completely unconscious. Blood was rushing out of his nose, and his face looked incredibly pale. Thorin could feel his bones; he had heard that halflings were usually not this thin. Not that it mattered to him - it just made him easier to carry. In his other hand he grabbed the sack full of gold; if his father heard that even a single coin was lost...

"Dwalin," he called out, his voice echoing across the room, "I am going to get someone for you. You just stay there."


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo woke up with a start. For a moment, he could not remember where he was or how he got there. That was a good thing; if he knew anything, it was that he was a wanted thief. A number of kingdoms wanted him beheaded or hung (or far, far worse).

He looked around the room, searching for some sign of how he got there. All he found, however, were cold stone walls and a very hard bed. Wherever he was, it was not good.

He tried to recollect the thoughts, forcing himself to not think of the shackles around him or the room that he was in. Clearing his head, he thought only of what really mattered.

Yes, he had been with the hobbit children and Lobelia. There had been another successful mission. That was always a good thing.

And then-

What?

It was all a big blank in his mind. They had gone too...

Where had the mission been? What had they tried to find? And just what had he stolen? This had to be more than just a slap on the wrist for stealing bread.

No, it was not he who stole the bread; Lobelia had done that in the markets of Dale.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. No, he had taken the famed Arkenstone.

* * *

"How are you doing, Dwalin?" Thorin knew that his friend had gone through worse, but that hobbit thief had done a lot for a creature of his size. The healers had certainly covered him in a good deal of bandages.

"Thorin," Dwalin responded. "Did ye catch him?"

Thorin nodded.

"Really?"

"I would never lie to you, friend. What reason would I have to?" He smiled, placing an arm on his shoulder. "Your injury was not in vain."

"Good," he responded. "That damn knife hurts. The healers want me to stay for the night to keep checking on me. I want to get out of here!"

Thorin chuckled. "You will, Dwalin. I promise. Besides, despite what you wish to believe, you are not invincible."

Someone cleared their throat. Thorin turned to see a young dwarf girl, an apprentice, holding a tray of food.

"Please excuse me." She bowed. "I only came in to bring Sir Dwalin's dinner."

"Of course," Thorin responded, stepping away from her. "I should be going."

"You only just arrived!" Dwalin crossed his arms.

"You need food." Thorin turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Dwalin asked, eyes wide.

"Is it not obvious? I have a prisoner to go check on. We may have him, but we have yet to get information from him."

* * *

He stared wide eyed at the plate in front of him. His lips were open slightly, forming a small look of shock. With shaking hands, he grabbed the metal utensils.

"Go on and eat," Thorin said. He would not be eating any prison slop, not if Thorin had his way. The prince had no desire to keep this game going on longer than needed; the sooner that he got his information, the better. If he had to feed the halfling thief ten meals then he would without complaint. "I promise that it is not poisoned." Poisoning him would bring no help to anyone.

"Why?"

Thorin raised a dark eyebrow. "Have you ever looked at yourself? Do you ever examine the skin and bones that makes up your body?"

The thief looked away from him.

"Have you?" Thorin's voice raised, the sound echoing across the stone room.

He nodded.

"You are so skinny, halfling. I had heard word that your folk enjoyed more than a few good meals; whoever told me must have been wrong."

"You cannot enjoy food when you cannot get any."

Thorin frowned. "Well, you have some now."

"Why did you give this to me?" He clutched his fork.

"Your food is getting cold."

"Answer my question!"

Thorin leaned down, wrapping his hand around the thief's throat. "I do not have to do anything for scum such as yourself. I brought you that food, from the royal kitchen itself, and you will eat it. That is an order. Do you understand me?"

The thief struggled against Thorin's hand, failing to break away from him. "Please, I will eat!"

Thorin released him. "Then go on."

The halfling immediately began to shovel food into his mouth. Thorin had brought him only the finest: tender and juicy beef, mashed potatoes served with thick brown gravy, a freshly cooked roll, and a rather large piece of vanilla cake. Rats like him truly did not deserve that, but Thorin would grant it to him.

He was, at Thorin's demand, the prince's personal prisoner. If he had caught him, did he not deserve the right to have him? Really, if anyone should watch over him then it was Thorin.

"What do you think?" Thorin watched him eat. Truly, he looked afraid, though he did his best to hide it. "Did I not already tell you that it was not poisoned?"

"Yes, you have told me."

"And I will remind you again," Thorin said. "Now, tell me, what do you think of this food? I wish to know. Is it delicious?"

"It is filling."

"Is it not some of the best food that you have ever eaten?"

The halfling did not respond.

"Would you not desire more? I would be happy to bring you some extra food after you have finished." He could certainly use it.

He scowled. "That is a lie and we both know it."

"And how would you know that?"

"I know your types."

"Then something similar to this has occurred, has it not? Once a dirty rotten thief then always one, I suppose." He crossed his arms. "Finish up and I will return with more food tomorrow. What would you like for breakfast?"

He only glared at Thorin. Oh, he could do it all that he liked, but he would never be able to do anything more.

"Now," he said, "what do you know of the Arkenstone?"

His expression did not change. He did not ask what it was. Thorin smirked. Of all the creatures to steal the stone, he and his kin seemed like likely. Yet, despite Thorin's assumptions, all signs pointed to him, really, if he were found guilty then Thorin would not be the least bit surprised.

The hobbit finished his meal in silence, then all but threw the plate in his hands.

* * *

He could feel his father's eyes before he saw them. Thorin had known that this moment would come.

"I have heard many things," his father said.

"I would be more than surprised if you had not." Thorin folded his hands together. "What have you heard?"

"Nothing too unbelievable," he said. "I only wished to hear from you if it they were true." He cleared his throat. "Did you yourself catch the thief?"

Thorin nodded. "I swear to Mahal that I am not lying."

"Good," Thror responded. "I do not so much as doubt my own son. Second, I have heard word of you taking him into your own care. Is the news that he is your personal prisoner true?"

Thorin nodded. What point was there in lying about that? His father would have learned eventually.

"Why?"

"Father, do you object to it?"

He shook his head. "Do with him as you please. Has the Arkenstone been found yet?"

"No," Thorin said.

"What?" His father's calm demeanor vanished in less than a heartbeat, almost as if it had never been there in the first place. He scowled, clenching his fists. Any bit of control he had held earlier was gone. "Where is it? It is mine!"

"I will find it." Thorin placed a hand on his father's shoulder. "I will not let that creature and his kin take what is ours, the very pride of the Durin line."

His father said nothing else, but seemed satisfied with the answer. Breaking away from his son, he turned and went back to wherever he needed to be next. The king had his own business to attend to.

* * *

Bilbo knew that he would not get any sleep, but still he tried to force his eyes shut. Sleep was better than facing what had happened (unless that haunted his dreams).

His eyes searched the room, searching for the answer to a puzzle that could not be solved. He was stuck in this situation, and there could not have been a single way out.

Bilbo, above anything else, knew that surely whatever hope he had left was futile.

He forced his eyes shut, ignoring the pain that it caused. All he wanted in that world at the moment was a softer bed.

A shiver ran up his spine, and his teeth chattered. No, he desperately wanted a blanket.


	6. Chapter 6

Surprisingly, Thorin came back with warm food the next morning. Bilbo had thought that what he had said the night before was a lie, a way of pushing him into hoping for something that would never be given. But the dwarf spoke the truth.

He could only hope that his promise of the food not being poisoned was true as well. He took a bite of his food, some strange sort of brown goo covered in cinnamon. It did taste sweet, and it left a heavy after taste in his mouth.

Thorin stood across from him, arms crossed over his chest. He watched Bilbo as one would watch a bug before they squashed it under their foot. Bilbo knew that look; it had crossed the faces of the children more times than he could count.

Only metal bars, made of what he guessed to be mithril or diamonds (considering the way that they shined), kept him from running away. They were likely just as indestructible.

"Do you have any other requests?" Thorin pulled something from his pocket and held it up to his face. Bilbo could not tell what it was, but it clearly interested Thorin more than the hobbit did. "I have more than enough food to go around."

The sweet, almost liquid nearly got stuck in Bilbo's throat. Some part of his mind had been sure that the night before had been a dream, some idea made up his terrified mind.

But this dwarf food was real, as real as the hard bed that he sat on. It was as real as the cold stone beneath his feet, and as real as the sound of his own teeth chattering.

"You will certainly need to eat before meeting my father. He has more than a few words to say to you."

Bilbo thought he saw the dwarf smirk, though he could not be sure. He swallowed the lump of food in his throat, then went back to eating. Usually, he could not get enough food. He knew that it was only right to give most of his food to the children and Lobelia, but still his stomach would rumble in protest. No matter how many times he told himself that he would get used to it, he did not. Some days it was easier to ignore the rumbling than others.

Today, it was not there at all. He could feel his stomach twist, and was quite sure that his cell would soon be smelling of vomit.

For the first time in a long time, Bilbo felt as though he had eaten too much.

He had known that this time would come of course. Why would it not? In terms of justice, he was on the wrong side. Usually, he had gotten out by now. Now, he truly was on the wrong side.

The dwarf said nothing else on the subject. He raised an eyebrow, though Bilbo refused to ask him the questions that he so desired. He was no fool to this sort of thing; he was going to be punished, and he was quite sure that it would be no slap on the wrist.

Again, he made a silent prayer to Yavanna (did she even still listen?) that Lobelia had escaped.

If not, then his race had their fate signed and sealed. How much longer would the children make? A few days? Weeks? Maybe one or two months? They were not that old, as skilled as they were in fighting. There were so many dangers larger than them in the world, both in terms of height as well as age. A few dwarves could easily end their lives.

A rush of hatred ran through Bilbo for the race. They had rejected his people when he and his folk looked for aid in the Blue Mountains, and the few dwarven traders that they had met had been weary of selling their wares to halflings, still believing the myths of them being a peaceful folk. There was no land for the hobbits, and without that there could never be peace. Peace was easy when one always had a full belly, some pipeweed to smoke, and a warm hobbit hole to live inside.

Then, the hatred turned to himself. How could he let this happen? He had escaped from even more feared kings in the past. Why could he not do the same here?

The dwarf prince's eyes turned back to him. Though he had not laid a finger on Bilbo, he felt a rush of fear pass through him. If anyone could make it through the bars, the dwarf prince could.

"Go on," he said, "and eat your fill. I have seen your body, halfling. You are nothing more than skin piled on bones." He pointed towards Bilbo's stomach, flat as a board. "You surely must have room for what is on your plate and a few extra servings."

* * *

Lobelia bit her lip. Frodo had his small hand wrapped around her arm, his wide blue eyes looking into her own.

"Miss Lobelia," he said, "Uncle Bilbo is not back yet."

He had been having trouble throwing the knife the night before. He had tried to hide his shame, but Lobelia had heard the boy cry. It was hard to keep secrets in this small group.

"I am sure that he is fine. When is your uncle not?" She plastered on a smile, that smile that she had been forcing even before the Shire was lost. This just gave her more time to practice. "Do not worry about it."

He frowned, looking away from her. "I just want to see Uncle Bilbo." He sniffled. "What if he is hurt, Miss Lobelia?"

"He is fine." She forced another smile, this one even bigger. Even if he was caught, even if he had been injured, he at least still had his mind. He could think of a way out.

Right?

He frowned.

"When he gets back," Lobelia added, "I am sure that he will help you with your knife throwing." He had probably just been nervous about his uncle being gone. Bilbo had taken the role of a parent for him, doing what Primula and Drogo would never be able to do again. After the death of his parents, the boy had clung close to his uncle.

Frodo likely was actually his (distant) cousin. However, like last names, true relations had no real meaning in this. Sometimes she would hear Rosie call her "Mommy" when the girl was sure that she was not listening.

"Mommy is so good at throwing knives!"

What the child actually saw in her, Lobelia did not know. Of the two, Bilbo was clearly the admirable one.

She would never be able to replace Bilbo for Frodo. No matter how hard she might try, she would not be his guardian.

"He will come back." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

She would ensure it.

* * *

Thorin brought out seconds, then thirds. He took no regard to Bilbo's words of protest, just kept having him shovel food into his mouth. The more he ate, the faster that the dwarf commanded he eat. At the rate he was eating, he could hardly even taste what he put in his mouth. The food seemed to be getting richer as Thorin brought more and more out, though he could not be sure. All he knew was that the dwarf kept demanding that he eat, stopping him every once in a while to comment (again) on his weight.

That was all everything was - eat, eat, eat, hear about his weight, then eat, eat, and eat again. Repeat.

The longer that it went on, the closer that it got to where he would be seeing the king.

When Bilbo finally did vomit, littering the floor with dark brown goo mixed with bits that were a deep, dark green color. The sight of it made him vomit more, until he had soaked his front and he was quite sure that he had emptied his entire stomach.

"There is no need to panic," Thorin said. In the dim lighting, Bilbo could not see the exact expression that crossed his face. His voice was blank - if he felt concern, he was good at masking it. "You will be moving quarters soon."

Maybe there was an underlying threat to that statement, but Bilbo did not catch it. He was too busy worrying about the state that he was in, along with the hopelessness of it all.

His vomit smelled awful. The longer that he smelled it, the more that he feared that he would pass out.

The dwarf prince made no move to clean it up, nor did he take Bilbo out of his cell. If the smell bothered him, he did not show it. A wave of jealousy ran through Bilbo; once, what then seemed like ages before, he could have done the same.

* * *

Thorin was a bit surprised with how the hobbit followed his orders. If he wanted to rebel then he either buried the idea or was waiting for the right moment to strike. At the moment, Thorin was dealing with a prisoner that he was sure could have been far worse.

How did he manage to do it? Would he keep it up?

And, most importantly, why was his father taking so long?


	7. Chapter 7

Focus, that was all that she had to do. If she kept herself together then she could make it past the dwarves. Lobelia had done it once, and she was going to do it again.

Walking past a guard, feet silent, she almost felt invisible. In a way, she was. No one had given the hobbits much, if any, help, at least once they learned of their stealing ways. It was not as though the folk could do much else, at least not without facing the greed of other races. If some Baggins had it their way years before, they would have all become farmers desperate to fill the food quotas of ever hungry men.

Her legs ached. Every step shot pain through her body. Still, she walked forward. There was still work to be done. If she did not save Bilbo then who would? Besides the other hobbits, he had no one.

She had been looking around for hours. Part of it was her fault, her foolish belief that Bilbo had escaped. Above anything else, she had believed once more that he could not fail. The reality hit her a little too late.

But she was getting close to him again. She knew he would be in prison, still caught and rotting in the cell. Maybe she could nab a set of keys; if worst came to worst, she would save his head right as it was about to be chopped off.

The closer she came to Bilbo, the more that she heard. The voices had started out low, just some dwarves to watch out for. If they caught her, they were both dead, and the children would last a few weeks at most after that. However, she soon found herself able to make sense of things.

She shook her head. No, she had sworn to get Bilbo out, and she would.

"My father is coming soon. He is not going to kill you."

Lobelia had to wonder if she imagined that part.

"Do you not have anything to say about that? Are you not happy, scum of Yavanna?"

Lobelia clenched her fists. From the distance she stood, she could not make out many features of the dwarf. Still, she did faintly recognize him. There was no forgetting the dwarves that had chased her and Bilbo.

She sniffed the air. Mixed with the smell of shit, sweat, and decay was vomit. She wrinkled her nose, using her anger to fuel her to leave. The sooner that she got out of there, the sooner that she was out of this hell of a dwarf city.

"You will be allowed to live! Should you not be gleeful?"

Oh, she wanted the head of the dwarf.

"At least grateful?"

Bilbo remained firm, never giving him his desired response.

"No matter," he said, leaning forward towards the bars. "All my father wants is the Arkenstone. So long as you live, you know of it."

A shiver ran up Lobelia's spine. Another reason to leave was to get back out where it was warm. Down here, no sun shined, and the rocky mountain brought no warmth of it's own. Some part of her thought she had stepped into a whole different world.

"Tell me where it is now; I did not find it with you earlier."

Bilbo continued his silence; Lobelia could almost feel the anger flowing off of the dwarf.

The dwarf sighed. "I retract my earlier statement; my father could kill you over this, if he gets angry enough. But then again, that might be a blessing."

* * *

Bilbo would have thought that he died, but he was not quite sure that an angel would look like Lobelia. That did not make him any less happy too see her.

"Lobelia, what are you doing here?" His voice nearly cracked.

"Did you lose your head?" she whispered. "I came to save you; what else would I possible be here for?" She stood tall, looking down on Bilbo and the cell holding him. "You look awful."

"You do as well." A wave of jealousy ran through him; sleeping out in the cold, hard world was awful, but infinitely better than in his cell. Bits of twigs and dirt still stuck to Lobelia's front. She was breathing heavily and red in the face, at least what Bilbo could make out of it. He could make out her lips, the wrinkles that outlined her chin, and the outline of her nose. If he looked hard enough then he could see just the smallest bit of her eyes, along with what he guessed to be dark circles under them.

She smirked. "Do you know who has the keys to your cell? To what is holding you together?" Her smirk faded; the edges of her voice were tipped in worry and coated in fear.

Bilbo shook his head. There was no point in lying because it would never be the truth.

"That is quite a problem." Lobelia stepped away from him. "Best of luck."

He was the one who should have been telling her that.

* * *

Rosie grabbed some of the berries, stuffing them in her mouth. She licked the juice on her chin. Were the young girl greedy, she would have eaten extra.

But she could not. The others needed to eat as well, and the berry bush she had found was not very large. If she was lucky then she might find safe mushrooms.

Might.

Maybe Frodo had better luck getting some food. He had said he was going to try to get a rabbit; Sam had wondered off with him, ever faithful to his friend.

The girl looked off into the distance, again hoping to see Lobelia and Bilbo coming back. She hoped that they brought bread with them.

* * *

He could remember a time before the Arkenstone was found, when the greed of his family line was not so obvious. Back then, Thorin's grandfather had still lived, and his father had not been so heavily burdened with responsibility. It had been before Dis married and gave the line heirs, before wondering orcs attacked Dale and Erebor, forcing the two to ally together to defeat the beasts. That was before lives were lost, before the threat of another battle became an every day anxiety.

Perhaps life had been simpler for Thorin then.

Or, more likely, he had just been more ignorant.


End file.
